The Long Road Back
by LePipi
Summary: AU! Dean has stuttering problems because of the fire his mother died in. Castiel is the doctor that will help him through his problems, and maybe even more.
1. Chapter 1

So I just thought about a Dean/Cas in which Cas is a doctor and Dean has stuttering problems, so he helps him through them and in the process helps him find love. Tell me if I did good, and if I should continue it!

The Long Road Back

Dean took a deep breath, shuddering in the cold November air. He looked up and down at the building in front of him. "Hope Meadow" was the name of the medical center in Kansas which specialized in psychiatric help. He tapped his foot in a timid manner, never taking his eyes of the high building.

'You can do this. Come on. Don't be a girl.' –He mentally scolded himself.

One last deep breath and he opened the door. Once inside he felt a gush of warm air tingle through him. He quickly loosened his scarf, away from his nose and mouth and began seizing the room. The reception room was a big saloon with a lot of chairs, some plants around the corners, and a big receptionist desk. It was all decorated in very mild, but warm colors. The walls were cream, while the seats were white, topped with the rich brown from the big desk. It looked fairly warm and inviting.

He cautiously walked towards the receptionist lady who looked at him smiling, expecting him.

"May I help you, sir?" –She asked politely.

"C-C-C-Can y-you d-d-d-d-d-d-direct me t-t-to m-m-m-Mister N-Novak?" –Dean fought through his words. He practiced, he knows he did, but in the end it all came out very shaky and horrible. He looked away embarrassed.

"Sure, his office is on the third floor, the second door from the left. His name is written on it. You can take the elevator." –She smiled again, seemingly unfazed by his little fall out. But of course, she probably witnessed worse, considering this is a psychiatric hospital.

He nodded once, smiling slightly and making his way towards the stairs. Small spaces made him feeling like suffocating which brought out his paranoia.

He quickly marched up the steps, rushing to his appointment with Dr. Novak. He promised himself and his brother that he would do this. This was the first time he actually tried getting help about his stuttering problem.

Once he made it to the office door, he stood before it hoping to get himself ready. It was already 3:10 minutes, his appointment scheduled at 3:00.

'Fuck this, I'll just get through this first appointment, act nice, and then never come back and live happily never after.'

He gulped audibly and creaked the door open, where another receptionist was waiting for him. Though this room was smaller. She smiled brightly and immediately started shuffling through her papers.

"You must be Dean Winchester. Dr. Novak's been waiting for you. Please come in." –She told him. Seems that this Dr. Novak instructed her well. She didn't demand any answer back in her talk. He smiled curtly and slipped off his black cotton hat Sammy gave him as he opened the other door.

Inside he was greeted by a little cooing noises. A big black chair had turned its back to him, while a soothing voice came from it.

"Who's the sweetest lil Mojo in the world? You is. My wittle ball of fur is. You are so cute I'm gonna strangle myself because of your cuteness..."- The voice spoke in a very childish manner, as little squelching 'meow's come from near him.

Dean audibly coughed, making the chair turn around swiftly to face him. It would have been very James Bond style, if the man with the cat in his lap wasn't looking at him like a deer caught in headlights. Oh and let's not forget the previous baby talk.

"Hello there."- The man said quietly. He looked to be about thirty, around Dean's age. He had very disheveled, black hair, dark stubble, but the bluest eyes Dean had ever seen. He wore a crisp white shirt under the stark black jacket, with a tie slung carelessly around his collar.

"Excuse me while I gather back my dignity." –He said smiling, dropping the cat to the floor.

Dean chuckled briefly at the man's remark.

"Castiel Novak." –The doctor said extending a hand towards Dean.

"D-Dean W-W-W-Winch-chester" –He spoke and looked away frustrated. Why couldn't he just get his name right?

"Oh, like the rifle?" –The doctor asked seemingly interested.

Dean smiled widely.

"Y-Yeah, like t-t-the ri-ri-rifle." –He confirmed.

"Would you like to take a seat? Assuming that you still want me to be your doctor after what you just saw?" –Castiel asked stoically, but Dean saw the humor behind it. He couldn't help but chuckle back.

"Y-Yes I-I-I would." –Castiel's smile broadened revealing a set of teeth. The both sat back in the chairs. Dean looked around the room a little, making out the scenery. It was a fairly large room, though not too big. It felt warm too but in a different way than the reception hall. The walls were beige, the desk black, scattered with a lot of files, though neat in a particular way. There were a couple of bookshelves behind him, all filled to the brim with books. A big painting of splattered colors hung in the center of the room. It felt... nice. Personal.

"Do you like it?" –The doctor spoke, snapping him out of his daze.

"Y-Yeah." –He responded shortly. He began taking his scarf off, folding it to fit inside his jackets pocket, beside his hat, and shrugged out of his big jacket, placing it carefully over the chair's back. He caught Castiel's eyes trailing his movements with a smile.

He couldn't help but smile back.

"I like the necklace." –Castiel stated, gesturing to the amulet.

"Oh this. M-M-My b-brother g-g-gave it t-t-t-to mmmm-me." –Dean explained.

"I-I-It's actu-ually an a-a-amulet." –He added as an afterthought. He usually never did that. He only spoke if it was absolutely necessary. Maybe it was because he's a doctor and he knows he has to deal with it.

"That was for good-luck wasn't it?" –Castiel prompts.

"I-It w-w-w-was." –Dean responds. Suddenly he feels a trailing movement against his jeans cladded leg. A soft purring noise comes down, and Dean glances at the little black cat. The cat stares back with very luminous green eyes.

"Meow" –The cat offers.

"You don't have a problem with cats do you?" –Castiel asks cautiously.

"N-No, but I-I-I wou-wouldn't s-s-s-strangle mmm-myself o-over t-t-t-them." –Dean spoke before he caught his words. He made a joke. To a person he just met. He never ever tried joking with people other than his family. How could Castiel make him feel so at ease?

Castiel's quiet rumble of laughter surprised him more than anything. He looked nice smiling. His eyes shone in a very particular way. Dean caught himself blushing before he could stop it.

"I would advise against that. It might lead to embarrassing yourself and losing a patient." –Castiel chuckled through his words.

"It wont." –Dean spilled the words. He quickly slapped a hand to his mouth. He didn't stutter. He said a whole sentence without stuttering. Never mind that it was only two words, he still didn't stutter.

Castiel's smile looked so wide and genuine. Dean slowly dropped his hand from his mouth and smiled back hesitantly. He felt warm all over.

"See this is what we'll be working on. You didn't stutter because you didn't think through those words. Am I right?" –Castiel asked for reassurance.

Dean could only nod.

"You're stuttering is a combination of a lot of things. We will be working through all of them throughout the sessions with me. I hope you feel comfortable enough to participate fully in the treatment. It might be hard, but if you're willing to get help I am willing to help just as much. Maybe more." –The way he said maybe more left a warm feeling in the pit of Dean's stomach. 'Stop it, Dean. Just, stop it.' –He scolded himself.

"So, what do you think? You want to see me again?" –Castiel spoke.

"Y-Y-Yeah, I-I'd l-l-like th-that." –Dean tried, and his sudden feeling of pride vanished into thin air. Back to square one. Though Castiel's words of promise still lingered somewhere.

"Don't worry yourself, it's not going to happen overnight. But I will help you. I promise." –Castiel must have sensed his disappointment.

Dean smiled briefly, and stood up. He offered his hand to Castiel who took it in a firm handshake.

"T-Thank y-y-you, D-d-doctor." –Dean spoke smiling politely.

"Oh, please, call me Castiel." –Castiel smiled back. "I'll call you to inform you of our next meeting."

"T-T-Thanks a-again."

"It was nice meeting you, Dean. I hope to see you soon." –Castiel said as Dean made his way to the door.

"R-right b-b-back at cha." –Dean responded and felt himself redden. He quickly left the room with a whole mix of emotions.

Maybe this whole therapy thing was a good deal. He was gonna have to thank Sammy for this.

Or maybe he just shouldn't get ahead of himself.

-/-

Reviews keep the author going! :D I really hope you liked it!


	2. Chapter 2

Driving back home Dean felt a little bit proud and bolder than usual. Proud that he'd managed to go through the session with the doctor, and bold because... Because the whole thing was a big step for him, he had to admit. He never really realized how big of a problem his anti-social behavior was until he was faced with it. Going to the hospital, walking past the doors, asking for directions was a big deal for him. And talking to someone else, really talking not just a simple order of 'Beer' in a bar was a big step too. And even though it was childish, and it was an everyday thing for norm- most people it was tough for him.

And in the end he felt good. Dean had pictured an old woman in an olive business suite looking far too serious awaiting behind the desk, or maybe a senior clad in a boring grey office suit with a ruler cut mustache and a set frown. Instead he got the quirky nerdy dude in a rumpled office suit. He had to admit, he liked the guy. Immediately he felt a soft spot growing for him.

His brows furrowed as he came to a stop light.

But, Castiel was just a doctor, it was his job, he was doing his job. Maybe the whole friendly thing was what he pulled with all his clients. Heck, he certainly did, his attitude put Dean immediately at ease, probably did all of his patients.

And Dean was just that, another patient, another mental brake down waiting to happen.

-/-

"So, how did the meeting go?" –Sam asked, barely stifling his excitement. It was obvious in his gleaming eyes that there was hope in there.

And Dean was glad not to disappoint, for once.

"I-i-i-t's-t's-s w-was g-g-good."- Dean stammered with a reassuring smile. It was hard to sound reassuring when your words were so wobbly.

"Really? What'd you guys talk about? How was he? Was he nice? Did you set another session?" –Sam bombarded him with questions, as Dean was hanging his jacket on the coat hanger.

"H-He'ssss n-ame wa-was Ca-ca-ca-ca-ca-ca-ca" –But he couldn't make it through. He couldn't pronounce his name. It sounded so clear in his head it was there, right at the tip of his tongue, the 's' between his gritted teeth, his tongue pushed, the 't' with a cluck, 'i' with his jaw clenched, elegant 'el' with a soft glide of his mouth, he knew this, he'd pictured it saying it, he had it in his mind it was there, it was fucking there, he wanted to say it, he wanted to be able to just, get through it, fucking say it, fucking!

"Dean!" –Sam's voice startled him out of his own mess of thoughts, stuttering words, and it was then he realized he'd been clutching his hair with both hands, eyes shut in concentration.

"Ca-ca-ca-ca-cas! Cas! Cas!" –Dean yelled loudly, lost in his own inner turmoil.

Before he knew it, hot tears were running down his cheek, feeling his own cheeks grow hot with anger, anger at himself.

The kind man that offered more comfort in an hour then all the women he'd slept with in a lifetime and he couldn't pronounce his name, not even stutter it. He deserved that much, to have his name, but Dean couldn't, he couldn't even give him that.

He choked a sob, and he saw Sam's form gliding slowly to him, unsure steps on his way, and he didn't have the heart to handle Sam's comfort, to see his older brother quiver and shake with tears.

He pushed past him with a strong push and slammed his bedroom door shut.

-/-

Castiel called 2 days later after their meeting.

Dean was alone at home, as per usual, not having the will to go anywhere after his tiring shift at the garage. Dean was good with cars. Something he could fix, something he could work on and not be stopped by his speech.

Sam was off with this girl, Jessica. She was a nice girl as far as Dean could tell. Sam stuck with her for longer than usual, so yeah, Dean didn't spare much thought on her.

The phone buzzed and the annoying ringtone startled Dean out of his blind staring at the tv, not really seeing anything, rather enjoying the sound of movement, making him feel less alone.

He felt a shiver of terror run through him as it always did when the phone rang and Sam wasn't there.

He never answered it.

Ever.

And the thought that the call might be something important, someone calling about Sam, calling to inform him that he's in a hospital, or worse Sam trying to call him to ask for help always terrorized his mind. In the end it always ended up being a survey or the phone company calling or maybe even Bobby to check up on them, but the freight never left him.

His breathing spped up as worse and worse thoughts began clouding his mind, when the phone went to voicemail.

"Dean, this is, ah, Castiel calling, your doctor, and, if you're there just pick up. I'll just, wait here." –The calm growl of a voice that Castiel had felt even deeper by the muffled phone.

Dean felt his heart calm, seeing as it was just the doctor but then... He had to answer. And, he couldn't he just, he couldn't.

He lost the courage to see him again.

When he thought of him, and the days after their meeting he found the image of Castiel popping a lot in his mind ( 'I wonder if Castiel likes Led Zeppelin? He's probably into classical music though, Beethoven and shit...') he always felt a pang of guilt. He couldn't see the man who he couldn't pronounce his name.

"Dean I know this is hard, believe me I do, but you have to take these small steps. I don't want to preach to you over the phone so just... Please, pick up." –The last sentence gave Dean a kind of sick guilt, far worse than the previous ones he'd experienced. The doctor pleaded for him. Actually _pleaded._ If Dean could help it, he wouldn't want to disappoint him.

He trudged to the phone unsurely, glaring at it, and with a shaking hand rose the phone to his ear.

"H-H-Hello..." –Dean said in a small mousy voice.

"Dean." –And the way he said it, his strong, masculine voice right in his ear, sounding more of a sigh than his name gave him a shiver.

"H-H-How'd'd yo-uu know I-I w-w-w-w-was hhhhhh-ere?" –Dean stuttered his question, feeling more nervous than ever. He'd never answered the phone, and this was his first experience with it sence he can remember.

"Ah, it's 6 in the evening, trauma survivors don't like taking the night shift at work, and they rarely go out. Oh, sorry, that was just... Rude and unprofessional of me." –Dean thought he heard a silent frustrated curse on the other side. He couldn't help but smirk through his nervousness.

'I-I-It w-was bbbbblunt." –Dean tried giving comfort to Castiel. He knew his own trauma, he knew this was all because of the fire, knew he locked himself in his room. It was good to have someone point it out, not out of malice rather than a statement.

"Yes, that it was." –Castiel gave a soft chuckle, that made Dean smile. He was glad to release even just a chuckle from the older man.

" I was calling about our next session. How does Monday sound? Five pm? " –He heard a faint shuffle of papers from the other side.

"I-I'm not g-g-g-go-iiing" –Dean felt his good humor leave him, to be changed with deep regret. There was a short silence on the other side, the paper trickling coming to an abrupt stop.

"I thought last session went well?" –Castiel said softly with a question.

"I-I-It did! I-I ju-ust, rea-ea-eally can't't see-ee-ee-ee-ee y-ou. " –Dean's thoughts were as jumbled up as his words. His breath started heaving.

"Calm down. Please. Just breath with me." – Castiel must have picked on his ragged breathing and- that's just what he did. He breathed. Dean could clearly hear the inhale and exhale of Castiel's lungs.

And Dean listened and tried to match his breathing with Castiel's own.

Deep inhale, slow exhale, deep inhale, slow exhale, deep inhale, slow exhale.

When his breathing finally steadied, Castiel spoke again.

"You don't need to tell me over the phone why. I sense there is a reason, a reason that is upsetting you. But you need to tell me what this is. We have to make this work, Dean. Are you willing? Yes or no?" –Castiel spoke steadily as if he too was as nervous as Dean was.

"Y-Y-Yes." –Dean whispered, his eyes shut tightly.

"Then meet me at the café on Willow's street. I have a break at 12 am. " –Castiel said softly, a light tone of content at Dean's approval.

"I-I-I'll bbbbe the-ere" –Dean spoke, even though his mind told him not to go there, not to meet him, his heart thought otherwise.

"Thank you, Dean." –And with those last words, a smile hidden through the wires that connected the two of them, the soft click of the phone was heard and the line went dead.

**So, surprise, I'm continuing this! It's been more than a year I think since I wrote this story, and this was just a spur of the moment writing, but I think I'm liking where I'm taking this story. It's a little too angsty for me, but I know I will reach a happy ending so I'll keep on writing! **

**Also, if you'd care to review please do so, as it gives great motivation. :)**

**Thank you in advance.**


	3. Chapter 3

Sleep didn't come easily that night to Dean. In fact it didn't come at all.

He kept turning and twisting, flipping the pillow back and forth, punching it to make himself more comfortable. He turned the window-shades up and down exactly 6 times, trying to find if more light or less would help him get to sleep.

It didn't.

It wasn't his body, or his surroundings that bothered him. As always it was his mind's fault.

He kept thinking and rethinking about Castiel and their... Appointment. Because even though it was at a café, that's what it was. It wasn't a 'date' in any sense of the word.

He didn't want to see Castiel, and yet he couldn't wait to see him.

The anxiety was overflowing him.

On one side he didn't want to see him because, obviously he couldn't pronounce his name, and that put him to more shame than he would care to admit, then they were meeting at a café, and in public Dean didn't really... function properly.

Actually, he never functioned properly, but as good as he did, he didn't do it in public, not without his brother.

He didn't want Castiel to find out just how fucked up he was.

But, in the end that was the whole point of going to therapy, wasn't it?

To get help over your fucked-upness?

But, Cas was... Besides being his doctor, he was a nice guy, a cute guy. He had this certain appeal to him that made you warm up to him instantly.

And Dean could kid himself however he liked but, he knew he saw more into him than he was supposed to on their patient-doctor relationship.

Not quite a crush, not quite admiration, not quite friendship, but... Something like comfort.

And he was scared that would grow. That it would expand through him to the point where...

Where he will leave and hurt himself like he always did.

And with that thought, Dean decided to get up from bed, leave the false hope that he was going to get some sleep and went outside for a run in the cold, grim morning.

-/-

Again, Dean found himself staring at the café's door, contemplating if he should do this, or not.

In the end he decided that he just wanted to be over with it, and pushed open the glass door, to hear the jingle of bells over his head, signaling another patron.

He turned his head briefly around the café and managed to spot Castiel's downturned head over a cup of steaming liquid, and another sat in front of him, and he could see it was coffee.

Dean gulped through his anxiety, trying to calm himself.

He trudged to the table, trying to concentrate on Castiel, rather than all of the other patrons, their loud chit-chatting, a group of college students laughing, a few girls turning their heads to watch him.

He felt like the whole room was staring at him, the college students laughing at him, everybody talking about him.

He knew this wasn't true, dammit, he knew it!

But, that's exactly what social anxiety does to you, it turns your rational mind over until you hate yourself and question your every move.

But, then, Castiel's head peeked up at him, watching as his form closed in on the table. And then he smiled so warmly, so tenderly, his tired, blue eyes crinkling at the corners, chapped lips pulling upwards, and it was Castiel and only him he saw. It was like all the room went quiet. Instead of concentration on every sound he heard, on every look he was given, it all turned into quiet murmur, gibberish of words that had nothing to do with him. Only the man that stood before him was his concern.

So he smiled back, taking the seat opposite him.

"Hello, Dean." –Castiel spoke in his warm, gravel like tone. He looked nothing different than he did in his office. Stark jacket and white shirt, blue tie hanging carelessly, trench coat slung over the back of his chair.

"H-H-H-Hi." –And this is where all of Dean's sudden good mood, vanished just as suddenly as it came.

"I'm glad you came." –Castiel's gaze didn't falter at this stutter, instead he took his coffee to take a sip.

Dean nodded in acknowledgment.

This is where things began to go wrong.

"I hope I wasn't presuming when I bought your coffee. It's strong black, but I had them give me some sugar packs." –Castiel said and indicated at the three bags next to his cup.

Dean smiled with a nod, taking one pack and pouring it into his cup. He didn't like sugar with his coffee, he took it black, but he did so just to prolong the moment he dreaded.

"Dean, are you alright?" –And yeah, no prolonging with Castiel.

Dean sighed heavily, giving an exasperated look around himself, whilst running a hand over his mouth.

He took out his phone and quickly typed a tiny message, ignoring the puzzling look he was given by Castiel. He turned the phone to Castiel's direction who took it in his own hand with caution.

"I don't talk in public without my brother..." –Castiel murmured, reading the message and his eyes seemed to darken.

"What is this, Dean?" –His voice turned demanding and Dean felt taken aback.

Dean stared at Castiel willing his eyes not to waver with embarrassment and shame. He made a move to take the phone, to type it out, but Castiel took his hand back, shucking the phone into his pants pocket.

"No. You will talk to me. With your voice, because you _are _capable of speech." –Castiel said with such conviction that Dean had to gulp for breath.

Dean's eyes turned pleadingly, lips slightly parted and he shook his head in 'no', begging for understanding.

He couldn't do this with Castiel, he couldn't in this café, not in public.

He mentally scolded himself for not remembering this problem. But, it had been such a long time since he went out with anyone other than his brother, and he simply forgot about his problem, stored somewhere in the back of his mind where he rarely went searching.

"Dean."

_They will all stare._

_They will all point._

"Please"

_They will all talk._

_They will all laugh._

"For me." – Castiel's hand reached for Dean's own shaking one, placing itself gently over the gruff skin of his working hands. There was such a tone of hope and plead in his voice, that something in Dean just rattled, cracking, those earnest, open blue eyes pulling something from him.

"I-I-I-I-I-I c-c-caan't't s-say yo-o-o-ur n-n-n-n-ame-m." –Dean burst out, his words loud with the struggle to beat them out of his throat.

Castiel instead of looking surprised or anything Dean expected, he simply smiled widely, looking so proud and happy to have heard Dean's mess of words. His hand gripped tightly at Dean's hand, and it was is if Dean felt his acceptance, his praise.

"It's difficult, I know. Talking, all by itself. But, you have to try, and every time you fail you have to try harder. And I'll be there to give you a push when you need it." –Castiel spoke, his smile not faltering, his thumb grazing over the inside of Dean's palm. The touch was so warm on so many levels, unlike any Dean had received from people other than his brother. All of the soft hands and pliant bodies he'd held and they couldn't compare to what was given in Castiel's simple gesture.

He couldn't help himself. He upturned his hand until it fell in place with Castiel's. Castiel seemed to take the gesture as an affirmation.

"How much of my name can you say? I realize it's needlessly complicated." –Castiel said with a chuckle.

"C-C-C-C-C-a-a-as. C-C-Caaas-s-s-..." –But Castiel intervened.

"One of my brothers used to call me Cassie. I never really liked it, quite the opposite in fact. But, I think I like Cas. Cas is good." – He said with a decisive nod.

Dean couldn't help but sigh in relieve. He felt slightly better about the issue, but he still wanted to have his name, to be able to say it, even with stuttering, he would accept that, he just wanted to say it, needed to.

"Is that why you didn't want to see me?" –Castiel asked with a soft tone on understanding, not pity, never with pity.

"Y-Y-Y-Yes." –Dean answered with a curt nod and felt his face redden even more with shame.

"Then that's settled. We got over it. We can continue therapy now." –Castiel said matter-of-factly, like it was really that simple.

"Y-Y-Yeah, w-w-we c-c-c-c-can." –Dean said with a slight smile full of nervousness.

There was still a long road to go.

But, with Cas by his side he thought he could do it.

**Woot for another chapter!**

**So, some explaining I should have done earlier.**

**In regards to heavy stuttering in adults I have to say my knowledge isn't at all expertise. But, I've watched quite a few documentaries and read some programs on help, and though I believe that in adults there is really no definite 'cure' there are ways to help yourself, if not with the stuttering than with the causes of it. Which is mostly caused by childhood trauma, or so I've witnessed. I had a friend who used to stutter a lot all the way into his twenties, but that was because of self-esteem issues. So** **he helped himself. He changed styles, hair do's, clothes, friends, and really it was funny seeing him go through these phases but in the end it helped. He found himself and he no longer has such big issues, just a slight stammer. **

**But, I understand that this has little to do with heavy stammer, and I apologize if I falsely presented the population that stutters. **

**Still I hope you enjoy the story and I hope I didn't let you down.**

**Review if you'd care to, every single opinion and critique means a lot to me. :) **


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